


Walk-ins welcome

by maybeillride



Category: Free!
Genre: Coincidences, Enough fluff to drown yourself so beware, Farce, Game-for-anything!Kisumi, Gen, Happy birthday Strawberry Babe, KisumiDay, M/M, Multi, Poly-as-fuck!Kisumi, Salon-owner!Kisumi, Waxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6973438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/pseuds/maybeillride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not HIS fault the entire known population wants a piece of him. It’s not HIS fault he’s perfectly okay with giving them what they want.</p><p>Or, Kisumi suddenly finds himself on a quintuple-date and takes it all in stride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk-ins welcome

**Author's Note:**

> YEEEEEAHHHH KISUMI DAY! Let's make this thing a regular thing, shall we, friends??? :D

The woman is on her way to breaking Kisumi’s heart.

She sits awkwardly in his chair, unable to pull her eyes away from her hair in the big bright mirror as he passes it through his fingers, checking out the texture (rough) and weight (thin). And long, something she’s obviously been working on for years the same way people plug away knitting afghans (for some reason).

“…now, we don’t have to do anything drastic, remember? A nice easy trim, clean everything up, perfect for the start of summer.” He floofs it over her shoulders in a magically flattering way. Just because her hair is a fashion disaster is no business of his; he’d learned way back when he got his first styling gig to never, ever argue with a client who had their mind made up. “Totally up to you!”

She twists up to meet his eyes through a sheen of shaky tears. That’s another thing he learned early on: haircuts are emotional business. High drama. Hell, he’s woefully miscalculated his own dye job enough times to feel the crushing _oh no, I did NOT just turn myself into a circus clown, dear GOD_ in his very soul.

“No, get rid of it. I need it off my head.” Now her lower lip trembles, too, just a little.

Kisumi crouches down and leans over her armrest like he’s sharing a big secret. “You know. After doing this a while, I’ve found the key is to get your hair to work for you, instead of you having to work for it all the time. I think you’d look fantastic with a little angled bob, play up that jawline. Take advantage of all that texture you have. What do you think?” He smiles and cocks his head.

“…I think you’re an angel,” she blurts.

“Just doing my job,” he says modestly.

*

“I can’t believe you talked that chick into a pixie-cut,” Chigusa says, trundling the broom around his station gathering up enough hair to have to make two trips. Kisumi makes a non-committal noise as he zeroes out the register. She leans on the broomstick and gestures wildly at him like a tiny hipster Gandalf. “Seriously!! No one has your magic touch. I’m thinking it’s Satanic. Or, maybe you slip Ecstasy in their tea. I bet you get great tips.”

“Nah, it’s just customer service. Try it sometime,” he sniffs like a pompous ass, and she darts a hand down and chucks a wad of hair at him. He squawks and jerks out of reach but still gets a furry shower all over his pink skinny jeans.

“…no, it’s called being the biggest damn flirt on the planet, that’s what it’s called. If I had 1% of your skills, Shigino…”

“Honey, you wouldn’t know what to do with ‘em.” He abandons trying to de-fur his jeans to wave a sassy finger at her, and that’s when she snags a hairspray and launches herself at him, giggling insanely.

Kisumi manages to dodge her noxious death cloud, but she’s fast, and she does some sneaky soccer moves and before he knows it he’s trapped between two sinks cowering and hiding his head. Chigusa lets out a fabulous Bond-villain laugh.

“Not the face!!” he screams.

“Uh… are you guys open? Do you take walk-ins?” comes a hesitant voice right behind them, and Kisumi screams again, a breathy shrieky thing he’d laugh at if someone else did it. Chigusa pops up with her can of hairspray in hand.

It’s a big burly guy built like a linebacker but with the face of a kindergarten teacher, or maybe a youth-group leader. Chigusa recovers in record time.

“Oh, we sure do, sir!” She guides him to Kisumi’s station by an elbow and Kisumi wonders what good deeds he did in a past life to have his luck flip-flop so splendidly. “Shigino-san is a fantastic stylist, he’ll take care of you.” She shoots a secret wink at Kisumi as she sashays off.

Kisumi clears his throat. The guy blinks openly up at him, hands folded politely in a lap full of muscle.

“So, what are we thinking tonight?” He squints thoughtfully at Mr. Too Good to be True. “You sure are working with a lot of hair. I know some clients who’d kill for what you’ve got.”

The guy chuckles at his attempt at humor, and Kisumi slides a step closer.

“Actually, Shigino-san, I’m looking for a change… I think I’ve had the same cut, oh, since I was about eight and it’s time I tried something else.” He chuckles again and Kisumi finds himself laughing too. The guy just exudes ease, probably something to do with his “works-with-children” face. Kisumi might be jealous if the guy’s good nature didn’t automatically evaporate any petty feelings before they have a chance to take form.

“Well! If it ain’t broke why fix it,” Kisumi purrs as he takes the liberty of running his hands through the guy’s hair, messing it all up and still somehow making it look even better. The guy’s glance up is amused and knowing.

“…okay. I think we could do something really fun to really clean this up, go short and sleek, really polished. Turn you into a total lady-killer.” Kisumi smooths the guy’s long bang up and away to give him an idea – and oh, isn’t he just right on the money?

“Wow, that looks… great.” His eyes are wide in the mirror, like he can’t get used to the idea of seeing himself like that.

Kisumi smiles and rubs his hands together in anticipation.

Twenty minutes later, and even he can’t believe the vision that’s materializing before their very eyes. He practically expects pink sparkles to float around Prince Charming’s reflection, which has nothing on the guy’s round-eyed wonder. It’d look a little dumb to be honest, if he wasn’t so damn adorable.

Kisumi’s enjoyed the conversation even more than his work. He finds himself sharing way more than he probably should with a stranger about whether it’s wise to open a salon in a small town with no connections or prior experience running a business (answer: no). The guy meanwhile reciprocates with a truly hair-raising (….) story about a divorce case he’s working on. It should be sad – Kisumi can tell how deeply he cares about it – but the guy keeps relentlessly finding the silver lining in what’s a clearly shitty situation. He gets the sense the guy almost does it like some weird happiness-tic.

The fact they aren’t using first names – he doesn’t even know the guy’s last name – is probably the paradoxical reason for what comes next. There’s a little lull as Kisumi blow-dries his hair, then lets Peggy Sue (his trusty drier) retract back on her cord as he grabs a wide-toothed comb for the final style.

“So…” the guy starts.

Kisumi meets his eyes in the mirror ( _God_ it was the right idea to get those bangs out of _those_ eyes…) and raises an inquisitive brow.

“So, I needed this cut for a little party that my friend is throwing.”

“Fun!” Kisumi sweeps the guy’s hair back.

“Ah, yeah, it will be! It’s sorta a halfway-between-spring-and-summer party. Our other friend is bringing fireworks.” The guy sighs. “I just hope we don’t set the house on fire.”

“Better put the fire department on standby just in case.” Kisumi wipes gel off his hands and stands back to admire his art. “Well – ! Whatd’ya think??”

The guy takes a cursory look and nods vigorously. “Shigino-san, this is fantastic.” He turns the chair back almost immediately to face Kisumi. “...would – would you like to come to that party? The more the merrier! It’s this Friday night, I’m sorry there’s so little warning…”

Kisumi blinks slowly at him. “…are you asking me out?”

The guy stands up a little too abruptly. “Only if you’re interested!”

Kisumi gets supreme pleasure scoffing in his pretty face. “ _Psshh_. ‘IF.’”

*

Chigusa has the whole salon decorated in cut-out paper hearts when he comes in the next day. He stands blinking in the doorway, feeling his mouth dangling open in a supremely classy way, which she’s all-too happy to confirm for him when she takes an ambush-pic of him with her phone.

“Niiiice. You realize there are other kids in town who would jump at the chance to work here, don’t you,” he threatens her, and gets her bending over to guffaw in response. He wonders, fleetingly, if he could burn the place down for insurance money and operate out of his apartment or something. Then she pulls a tall mug of coffee out from behind the counter for him and he has to grudgingly admire her powers of manipulation. And he thought _he_ was good.

“Really though. Nice work, babe!! Open for all of two weeks and already bagging a husband. Teach me how.” She leans deeply on her elbows on the counter and flutters her (extended) lashes, and he snorts.

“Honey, I can’t teach something like that. Either you’re born with it, or not. I’m very sorry.” He hisses as he burns his tongue. “…God, though. He IS a total husband. I thought he was gonna apologize for asking me out. It was so fucking cute.”

She’s cooing appreciatively, eyes on the screen as she logs into the computer, when the bell on the front door jingles.

There’s this huge dude in the doorway, bigger than Kisumi’s future husband, filling up the space with impressive bulk and looking around at all the hearts with confused suspicion.

“You DO know Valentine’s Day was three months ago, right?” he asks, in this rumbly baritone that matches his appearance so well Kisumi almost laughs. Then he figures fuck it, and does anyway.

“Hey, blame my deeply confused assistant, here,” he says cheerfully, getting a nuclear glare from Chigusa. He strides over to Rambo Incarnate and puts out a hand. “Welcome to Kiss Me! Salon, pleasure to have you. I’m Shigino and I’ll be taking care of you. What would you like today?”  
The guy swoops a big hand around and they shake. Kisumi tries not to be impressed (or possibly intimidated) by the sheer crush of his grip but fails.

“Yamazaki, good to meet you. Glad we got another stylist in this space so fast.” He pauses, then one side of his mouth lifts in a crooked smile that somehow relaxes his whole face. “My chest wasn’t gonna wax itself."

Kisumi’s eyes sort of bug out and Yamazaki smirks. “Well! Guess I know what you’re looking for. Would you like anything else…? I do a mean back.”

“No, no, my back’s fine.”

“I bet it is,” Kisumi nods, and Yamazaki gives him an almost cursory once-over, and Kisumi isn’t exactly sure why freaking Iwatobi of all places is shaping up to be babe-central, but decides not to question fate too closely when it’s this kind.

His opinion on the matter is solidified once Yamazaki gets his black T-shirt off. They spend a weighted moment, Kisumi running almost incredulous eyes over what the guy has to work with, Yamazaki not seeming to mind a bit. From the storage room, a surprisingly-catchy whistled version of “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” drifts out.

“SO!” Kisumi turns to grab his applicator and when he turns back, he can swear Yamazaki’s flexing his pecs. “Sounds like you’re an old hand at this, but just let me know if it’s too hot, et cetera et cetera. And for God’s sake, do _not_ flex, dude. You won’t want those hairs trying to make it through THAT, believe me.”

Kisumi almost-but-not-quite feels bad at the embarrassed look on the guy’s face, but it gets him another half-smile, and he finds himself smiling back. He busily starts in on the truly magnificent canvas in front of him, working fast (wax waits for no man), fully engrossed in the weirdly-satisfying nature of ultra-fast hair-removal. There’s nothing like watching a brand new swath of skin being reborn.

He’s on the third can in Yamazaki’s eight-pack when the guy finally bothers to speak up. Kisumi would think he was shy if not for what he decides to talk about.

“So I wonder if you’d be willing to do me a big favor.”

“…ooh, mysterious! Well, you gotta tell me more.” Kisumi yanks the strip off and enjoys the way Yamazaki flinches.

“It’s… awkward.” Yamazaki sighs and Kisumi hears about 20-years’-worth of trouble in the sound. “I’ve got this… friend. And let’s just say, I’ve been trying, and trying, to get us up to the next level, and the guy just doesn’t get it. Doesn’t matter what I do.” Yamazaki pauses, and Kisumi glances up from the shapeless blob he’s made of the guy’s stomach, and his teal eyes are searing.

“I’d like you to come to this party with me. As my date. And finally get through his thick skull what he could have.”

“…what he could have with you.” Kisumi waits patiently for the dude to get with his own program. “I assume?”

He sits up straight in the chair and frowns. “Yeah! Sorry, of course.”

Kisumi rubs the next strip on, wondering when the camera crew’s going to bust in. “This thing isn’t on Friday, is it?”

“It is.” Yamazaki grins, big and sarcastic. “What, you already coming?”

Kisumi makes him flinch again. “Nah, just making sure I was free. Sign me up.” He glances around at the silly paper hearts as he swirls the stick in the vat of goo. “Hey, maybe it’s Valentine’s Day after all.”

*

Kisumi’s doing a dye job the next evening when things go from “ironic” to “vaguely scary.”

The guy – Matsuoka Rin, Kisumi learns in their first minute of interaction – full-on beams as he comes in, complimenting Kisumi on what he’s done with the place (even though he only put up a fresh coat of paint and, he has to agree, some fabulous mismatched antique mirrors). Kisumi can’t shake the odd feeling that he knows him, from somewhere… just this edge-of-his-memories familiarity to him. Maybe it’s the simple fact that Rin is so familiar with him, right off the bat. Familiar, and friendly.

…oh, and obscenely hot. As has been the prevailing theme this week.

“ _God_ Kisumi, I dunno what possessed me to go with red…?? One of the dumbest decisions of my life. If I think too hard about what I could’ve done with all that money over the years, well… I better not. You don’t want me crying all over the magazines.”

Kisumi snorts, snugged comfortably at the little table with him where clients hang out when they’re getting treatments. He’s vaguely ridiculous in his tinfoil crown but somehow it just makes him even more endearing.

“Hey, it’s totally right for you! Do you know how many colors I tried before I landed on the pink?” He holds up a hand and counts theatrically through all five fingers, pauses, and holds up the other. Rin grins over, chin in one hand.

“Well, the pink looks AWESOME on you. Here’s to our comfy ruts.”

Rin holds out a fist and Kisumi finds himself in a fist-bump, amused. “You got anything fun on tap this weekend?” he asks, the stylist script rolling off his tongue but genuinely curious at the same time.

“Yeah, should be! My sorta-friend sorta-something-else is throwing this thing Friday night. Oh, man, you should see this guy when he has a few. I’m talking, a _few_. He starts doing stand-up…? But, he’s not funny?” Rin pauses, confused. “But, somehow, he is? I dunno. It gets complicated. I guess you gotta be there.” He stops, still looking deeply confused.

Kisumi points at him in a blaze of conviction. “ _Hey_.”

Rin flinches back a little, apprehensive. “Uh, what.”

“Do you know a Yamazaki. Big ape of a guy, like stupid-ripped. Gets his chest waxed.”

The sudden shock on Rin’s face looks like it’s knocked all prior thoughts out of his head for a second. “Um, YEAH I know the fucker, excuse me. Oh my God, Sousuke gets his chest waxed here?? Oh, man, small world…”

Kisumi tramples all the hell over him. “Small world’s right. He just asked me out to that party so I could make you jealous.” He gives Rin a chance to reply but nothing is forthcoming. “At least, I’m betting it’s you. Said he’s got some friend who he’s desperate to get with but who needs, well, a demo to get the picture.”

Kisumi’s a little worried at Rin’s silence until – with the suddenness of the fireworks they’re apparently having on Friday – he busts out in a giant, dorky laugh.

“…oh, are you serious??”

“I never joke about people hiring me out to save their relationships. Or, you know, fuck ‘em up forever. Whatever,” Kisumi shrugs, grinning back.

Rin launches across the table, grabbing Kisumi’s hand. “Oh, I don’t know if I should kiss him or kill him...”

“Well, do you _like_ him?” Kisumi asks.

Rin’s blushing now and that’s all Kisumi needs to know. “I better like him, I’ve only been his best friend since we were kids. And I guess I’ll have to kick his ass, sending _the town hairdresser_ to fucking do his work for him.”

“Um, stylist,” Kisumi corrects.

“…but first, I’d like to know if you’d like to come to a crazy-ass nutso party on Friday,” Rin demands. He hasn’t released his death-grip on Kisumi’s hand. And he’s gazing at Kisumi with such… commitment, Kisumi isn’t sure if he’s being asked to a party or proposed-to.

Kisumi raises Rin’s hand and kisses the knuckles with a loud smack. “I do. Let’s get you your man.”

*

Kisumi’s trying to find where he lost the box of no-frizz mousse – the really choice stuff made with truffles that smells like champagne – when Chigusa scratches the storeroom door in the way she knows drives him crazy. He shudders involuntarily.

“Um, yeah, you intractably creepy person?”

“Got another walk-in.” He pulls his head out from under the lowest shelf and struggles around to look at her. She’s scowling, which instantly puts a check in his _Hmmm…_ column. “He’s kinda a jerk.”

“And we all know what a fabulous judge of character you are, my dear,” he says indulgently, patting her shoulder. She flicks his nose as he breezes past.

He knows it’s Friday’s mysterious party host as soon as he lays eyes on him, standing awkwardly at the counter with his hands in his pockets and his way-too-long bangs in his face. It HAS to be, given the fortune-cookie levels of coincidence he’s experienced this week already, not to mention the apparently high grooming standards shared by this particular group of guys. It’s certainly been good for his business, anyway.

He sweeps up to the guy, looking down and leaning a hand on the counter between them. The guy looks up, their eyes meet, and Kisumi thinks…

_…oh._

_Oh, oh._

His eyes – this dreamy blue – squint in thought, or maybe irritation, Kisumi isn’t sure but suddenly wants to know. “Hi! Thanks for coming in, how can I help you?”

“Are you Shigino-san?”

 _…and the plot thickens._ He’s suddenly hit with the most out-of-place little shot of guilt (?). It’s not that he’s been doing anything wrong – it’s all been good fun, even if things end up a little crazy (as it appears they will). It’s just something in the guy’s total poker-face. Maybe he won’t be too friendly to some random guy all set to essentially crash his party.

But then the guy only confuses him further, nodding once firmly like he’s checking something off a list. “Makoto told me about you. He showed up with this haircut –“ The guy’s big eyes widen, and Kisumi isn’t sure if the look is _oh, WOW_ or _oh dear God_ , but he’s always an optimist against all hope. “And when I asked him about it, he went on and on about you, how nice you were, how much fun. He told me he invited you to my party on Friday.”

“I’m so sorry about that!” Kisumi says although he has no reason to. It’s not HIS fault the entire known population wants a piece of him. It’s not HIS fault he’s perfectly okay with giving them what they want.

The guy makes a little exasperated _tsk_ sound. “You’re Makoto’s guest. Don’t apologize.”

Kisumi’s compelled. “Ah. I’m Sousuke’s guest too, apparently. And Rin’s. Somehow.” He frowns. “Don’t ask me how. It’s been a weird, weird week.”

And then Kisumi can hardly believe what he’s hearing, when the stoic, kinda-a-jerk guy lets out a short little laugh, a young sound, and Kisumi wonders if he’s feeling a blush in _his_ cheeks now. “Well, I better catch up. Would you like to come to my party on Friday?”

Kisumi can’t help it somehow – he launches himself at the shorter guy, getting an arm around him. He jerks back in surprise but Kisumi just gives him a squeeze and lets him go before he makes the guy too uncomfortable.

“I think the bigger question is, will you let me play with that hair??”

The guy recoils like he’s asking to break his legs. “Maybe next time…”

*

Kisumi staggers through the salon door on Saturday morning. For not the first time, but definitely the most EMPHATIC time, he wonders why in the HELL he hasn’t hired another stylist yet. Someone willing to work weekend mornings…

“…Romeo, oh Romeo, therefore art thou, Romeo!” Chigusa bursts out, holding a homemade flower crown out and smushing it onto his head. He’s so, bone-deep, end-of-his-rope exhausted, he allows it.

“…coffee?” he tries, pathetically.

“Is that a hickey I see?” She pulls his collar a little lower. “Oh, my – oh, _wow_ …”

“Hey, boss! Boss, here!” he grouses, stepping backwards and magically not falling over his feet.

“...your shirt's on backwards, by the way." He sees the question brewing in her eyes before she can even get the words out. "I’ll get you coffee AND leave you alone for the rest of the day IF you give me the whole story.”

Kisumi weighs his options for a few seconds. Does he have the energy, the fortitude, hell, the _vocabulary_ to communicate everything that went down a few short hours ago?

“…after work. Over drinks,” he decides. “You’re buying.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...OK, not gonna lie. i felt a little bad ignoring so much actually-thoughtful headcanoning on this most-mysterious Free! character in order to play around in CrackLand. BUT, if there's any character who (once past the unique and truly horrible hells of middle- and high-school) i think could come out a winner, able to somehow turn anything thrown in his path to his advantage, i think it's Our Strawberry Babe :'D
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading and THANKYOU to the brilliant folks who thought up Kisumi Day in the first place!


End file.
